Sports, Physical Education, etc…

Don’t you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand

If this blog is anything to go by, I have seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth for a couple of weeks – just as I had predicted. I ended up having a splendid birthday, albeit a couple of bumps and hurdles I had to deal with on the day, and I had fun at the party too. The last huge, ginormous challenge that lies between me and semester break is my repertoire jury on Tuesday. I’ve been sitting at the computer trying to figure out how to write the score for my arrangements, because one of them is really complicated with complex cross-rhythms that change back and forth, ahhhh. So instead I’m seeking refuge in my blog again. And I have to admit now that earlier today I also wasted three straight hours watching the Stanley Cup Finals. Three hours. It was awesome until the Canucks came back from behind to go into OT and then managed to score in 11 seconds. ELEVEN SECONDS, PEOPLE. Sometimes Mister Thomas should just stop being such an aggressive goalie and should just keep his post. Anyway, the only reason I said I “wasted” three hours rather than “spent” three hours is because the Bruins lost. Had they won like they ought to have, I would be a much happier chappy right now.

Yesterday, unlike most AU students who spent their Saturday at home chilling, studying, or pretending to study (and actually chilling), I spent it at uni arranging – with eternally grateful amounts of thanks to my pianist and drummer – and rehearsing instead. And then fell asleep immediately after dinner. So needless to say, when it came to a normal person’s “bedtime”, I wasn’t sleepy at all. I ended up spending all night browsing crap online and listened to Vanessa Carlton, Michelle Branch and Norah Jones on Youtube whilst Wikipedia-ing their biographies.

I know I probably come off as a music snob too often, but I’m now going to bare my 13-year-old self. I also think that in a couple of days’ time when I’m finally on semester break that I’ll resume my writing project that I had started last year, working title: Songs and the People They Belong To. I’ve never posted it here, but maybe eventually I will. I had started it at the lowest point in my year last year, but then decided it was probably too raw and honest to ever see the light of day without heavy editing. And now I think I’ve changed my mind about it for the billionth time. I don’t know. Because the concept is a recurring theme in my life. You know when certain songs and even bands attach themselves to certain memories – to a phase in your life, a certain feeling, certain people – in such a way that they almost seem to “belong” to someone. I just can’t listen to things without feelings being drawn upon, except I guess a lot of things have numbed over the years, either through time or the sheer force of my will, or both.

So back to this “13-year-old-self” business. When I was 13, 14 ish, I was convinced I was completely and utterly in love with someone. Actually, to this day I sort of, rather jokingly, refer to him as the “first love of my life”, because I do believe that people have several “love of their life”s throughout different periods of their lifetime. And because I lived really, really far away from him, he (believe it or not, it wasn’t me!) came up with how Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” would be “our song”. So when I went on youtube last night, it was the one song I had no interest in hearing, much. I didn’t want to think about being 13, plus I knew the song faaaar too well. But what I didn’t know was that Carlton was training to be a ballerina and in fact almost turned professional.

Anyway, I just wanted to post a couple of songs…

I will never hear this song in an unbiased way, and will always remember the countless people who liked to play this song on the pianos in the music department back at college:

Seeing her dance in this video makes me really miss doing ballet, and reminds me of how for the last couple of years out of the decade plus that I had danced, I only did it in the hopes that I could move on to doing lyrical dancing. How that never happened… heh.

I really like the lyrics of the first two lines of this song. I don’t know why. There are far better songs out there, but I just like the circular feeling of this song. What’s with me and “circular” songs? There’s this, and Blonde Redhead’s “23”, Metronomy’s “On Dancefloors”, etc…

Something like a phenomena, baby, You’re something like a phenomena

It’s about to be my 20th birthday. I have mixed feelings about not being a teenager anymore, and it’s scary considering I was still 19 when I went to the supermarket this afternoon and once again didn’t get ID’d for buying alcohol! Earlier this evening, I went over to the boy’s house “for dinner”, thinking it was just going to be another fun but casual dinner. Turns out, they had cooked me a feast of lamb shanks (done superbly with probably the same recipe as mum, score!) and fresh brownies out of the oven with fancy ice cream on the side for dessert. It was such a sweet, sweet surprise, if I wasn’t so takenaback I probably would have jumped and given Donna a hug! I probably should have. Ahhhh. Anyway, I’m still in awe of how nice it was, to whip me up a hearty family meal to celebrate my birthday for me, when my family are away – I will never forget it. What a nice way to round of my teenage years.

Sooo… I decided to spend an afternoon (which turned into evening, which turned into all night) digging out old photos from my years of being a teenager. This is one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done because – in case you hadn’t noticed – I rarely post photos of myself. And when I do, it’s usually ones I’ve taken, or got other people to take under my strict strict instructions. So what is beyond that “Continue Reading” link is actually hundreds of photos (mostly of me) showing my transformation during the ages 14-19. There are gazillions more photos somewhere, but I don’t have access to mum’s stash of photos at the moment, so I also don’t have any one hand from when I was 13. Regardless, even if no one is that interested in what little-Amanda looked like, I had a LOT of fun doing this, recalling so many events and memories that I had long forgotten about. I’ve posted things in order of age, and almost in perfect chronological order, so be impressed. It’s a little funny turning 20, because in New Zealand it’s not a big deal like 18 or 21 is, but in Taiwan, 20 is a big deal. It’s like NZ’s 18th and 21st birthdays mashed together, sort of. To put it in perspective, I can’t renew my Taiwanese passport on my own without a parent’s signature until I turn 20 tomorrow. Which reminds me I really need to get onto it.

Looking back, I’ve obviously grown up a lot throughout my teenage years, but I’ve also stayed the same in more ways than I had expected. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m proud of, but also a lot of things that I’m not. But I’m pretty happy where I am right now, and I’m just trying to look towards the future optimistically. And if you know me at all, you’d know that I’m not generally an optimistic person. Like… how I have to spend 13 hour at uni tomorrow on my birthday… I’m sure it will turn out fine though. Also, the exhibition opened yesterday, and I’ll probably post the official photos in the next entry, but there are photos of the gallery at the bottom of this post!

Oh, and you may be surprised to find that I hardly look different at all.

Age 14:

Taken at the house I “grew up in”. I wish my hair was that long again.

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You seem very well, things look peaceful. I’m not quite as well, I thought you should know

Sometimes, some things just aren’t okay. And don’t feel okay. And… well they just aren’t okay. And when there’s nothing more you can do about it, when you’ve done your very best according to you and everyone else you can find solace in, then what are you supposed to do and feel from here? I hate that so many things are great in my life right now, but it seems that fate will never let all external factors be okay with me. I know, I know, life’s not meant to easy. Neither are friendships and relationships with everyone and anyone in life – but it just seems like there always has to be something wrong in my life. When it wasn’t drama with one friend, it was drama with another friend, or drama with classes, teachers, classmates, drama on the sports team, drama in the music ensembles, drama in the family (okay, that never seems to and I know will never go away, but it at least has its calms), drama with boys, girls, more boys and more girls, drama oh drama drama drama, all the time. And it sucks so bad when it’s with someone so close to me, who I so badly want to talk to, hang out with all the time, and it’s not reciprocated. In this post from back in September of last year, I expressed the pains of breaking up with a former best friend, and how it feels like – if not worse – than breaking up a romantic relationship. It’s different of course, but you know. Anyway, some really messed up and traumatic thing from about 15 or 16 years ago unwittingly surfaced for me recently, and I’ve finally managed to deal with it head-on… and afterwards it just made me think, gosh, the things I really want to say, and the people I wish I could tell them to right now – the shoulder that I really need… isn’t there.

I was feeling really shitty and end-of-mid-semester-break-blue today, and got really cheered up by the surprise revelation that classes don’t resume on Tuesday as I had thought they were – classes actually don’t start until Wednesday! I was all frantic and “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!!!” to the couple of people I was txting who replied with “I thought you knew”-type responses, but heck it made my day. Also, instead of getting anything legitimate done (okay, I did some more writing, but that’s not uni-work, thus not “legitimate”), I devoured three films with mum today. One was a Chinese film which at first seemed like commentary on life, romance, priorities, marriage, etc – but with a really warped and twisted sense of humour – but then it ended up really depressing towards the end when someone died of cancer and decided to hold their funeral while they were still alive so that they could attend it. I don’t know if there’s a proper name for when they do that, instead of an uhh “funeral”. And the latter film was Robin Hood. You know, the one with Russel Crowe, which I had largely questioned about the casting of, and was initially skeptical about but it ended up being enjoyable enough and wasn’t quite as the mother and I had expected it to play out as.

I’ve had a huge up-and-down of a long weekend, starting on Thursday night when the boy and I decided we were going to make it an overtly indulgent and decadent evening of fine dining and wining at home. The highlight of dinner was my chicken cordon bleu with pesto, and my god we drank so much wine that night that even with the copious amounts of food, I was drunk enough to doze off whilst watching Boston Legal – and it’s my all-time favourite, funniest show, so that’s saying a lot. The wines were a mix of his 21st birthday presents and leftover party wine, plus some Villa Maria that I had bought on sale ages ago that’s been stashed at the back of our pantry. Neither of us are habitual wine drinkers, but we’d been talking about it for sometime now, and watching the film Sideways the other night had helped to kick it off. Four bottles that night. Or technically three and a half. Not a bad effort. It was fun to mix and match up Riesling, Chardonnay, Sav Blanc/Pinot Gris (and also some Merlot) to see which best matched what food.

I’m hungry, just looking at this now.

A lot of capsicum. I had  kiiinda forgotten how expensive they were, but my god I love capsicums. Or as Americans call it, bell peppers.


Brock’s Italiano salami – my favourite – and brie. Another favourite of mine. Ahh!


These photos were all taken before I got too “happy”…

Another night later, another bottle of wine.

So many calories to burn off, but hockey training is getting tougher, and to make things worse, a fitness regime is also kicking in. But we are still young and must live close to the edge while we still can. Before we are too self-important, and too heavy with weights too dear to bear the risk of toeing the edge. And I will leave this post with this:

“Honestly, honesty never gets you everywhere. It may get you a lot of places, likewise your pretty face and ratio between your waist and hips, and those glorious breasts of yours that both sexes visually devour. But you hate that you can’t take any credit for how you look, so you feel more and more empty every time someone does a double take at you, or when strangers cross the room just to meet you. Because all they like thus far is to look at you, and maybe some of them like to hope that there is more to you… but alas, most often there isn’t much to them either so you’ve learnt to not get your hopes up. You need to learn what it’s like to look forward to something again, to be so excited for something that you’re counting down the days, hours and minutes as if nothing further down the line matters. You need to learn what it’s like to be free and young again. And worst but most of all, you need to remind yourself that you are indeed still young.”

Oh, and I ended up finishing Looking For Alaska the day after I started it, and am back to The Great Gatsby. Hopefully reading stays on track as my life starts to veer again.

Stuck inside my imagination, Busy making something from nothing. Pictures of hope and depression, Anything is better than nothing

It’s been a mind-and-history-delving, poetic-reading and inspired-writing couple of days. The highs and lows are hitting me in waves, waves and waves like nothing before, but it’s been interesting to see how I’ve grown up and changed in the way that I’ve been dealing with everything. Asides from an intense hockey training tonight that kicked up with a huge run around the block (man, that block seems so much smaller when driving!), everything I’ve done for the past few days hasn’t really taken much physical effort. Oh yeah, I forgot that two days ago I trekked my way into uni in the stormy weather to have a kind-of rehearsal – but because of yesterday’s events, the day before feels like a month ago by now.

Three albums that have been on repeat for the day:

New Moon – Elliott Smith

A posthumous release, I had never really paid much attention to it until recently. But tonight,  the songs between “High Times” and “Going Nowhere” are really striking a chord with me. Pun unintended. For me, Elliott Smith’s music is largely about the mood and lyrics, since majority of songs aren’t instrumentally or musically complex at all. I mean, sonically, only “Everything Means Nothing To Me” (one of my favourites, ever – definitely worth a listen) from his Figure 8 album really really stands out, because it’s in an epic key on the piano, full of black notes.

Raven In The Grave – The Raveonettes

The Raveonettes is one of my favourite bands, and this is their latest album. My favourite is Lust Lust Lust, but that has its time and place, and is a whole other bittersweet story altogether. Point is, I don’t care what Pitchfork or whoever else says, this is a great album. Not a life-changing release that’s about to influence me and leave the same imprint as Lust Lust Lust did, for sure, but it’s enjoyable nonetheless. They just do concepts, atmosphere and nostalgia so fucking well. And I’m all about atmosphere and nostalgia. Oh nostalgia! Take me back, when…

23 – Blonde Redhead

Even though they’ve been around for years and years and years (in other words, they first released something when I was aged 2), I’ve only started listening to them recently. So it’s a huge testament to say that now they’re my 6th top band on lastfm, which I’ve been scrobbling on since late 2006 – albeit with a couple of years off in the middle. They’re just amazing and so far I’ve haven’t ceased discovering something new in the many layers of their music, every time I listen. In a way, I think that I look up to the Italian Pace – brothers who make up 2/3 of the band – because of their “backgrounds in jazz”. According to various interviews and web-sources, they seem to have Bachelor degrees in jazz, so it’s refreshing to see jazz graduates moving on and making such beautiful yet relatable music that isn’t jazz. They would be around the same age as my tutors at jazz school, and I can’t help but hope that their paths is the one I take. I mean, jazz is wonderful, but I just don’t have the same passion for it next to some of my fellow students. I’m kind of in the middle-ground actually. There are those that are wholeheartedly intent on making jazz waves and they live, eat and breathe jazz; then there are others who are purely doing it for a music performance degree, and don’t even enjoy jazz. And really, I’m in the middle of the two. I enjoy it, but it’s not my #1-always-all-the-time thing. Music in general is. Anyway, wild tangent aside, I love this album.

Something I wrote two nights ago in a frenzy. Always in a frenzy:

Lines­ on my face
this clear trail you can claim to
Scars in my chest
these years you’ve been through.
So much easier now that she speaks
and you’re not listening
So much harder now that you talk
and she’s not hearing.
Uneasy questions on my face
you can’t respond to
Wounds in in the harshest place
those nights you’ve lived through.
Haunted by the spark I blew
The one true part I claim of you
Realisation in your eyes –
to truth.
I weep.
If I walked once so easily
What makes you trust and stick with me?
If I walked once so easily
What makes you trust and stick with me?

My copy of John Green’s Looking for Alaska just arrived today so I think I might tuck into bed with it now. Although I’m partway through The Great Gatsby, I think Fitzgerald can wait. Just a little while. And for now, some relevant, such relevant… food for thought (it makes more sense and is even more relevant in private, but I can’t go scrawling such internal ancient matters on the internet):

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” – Elizabeth Kubler Ros

By that definition, who are the beautiful people you know?

This is more than I can take, I fear my heart will burst or break. If there’s a thing as too much joy, I will be taken away

I’m still completely physically shattered from the events of yesterday, so this is going to be a very image-heavy post. So yesterday I finally played my first game of winter hockey since 2009! The good news is, we won 5-nil and our captain got a hat trick. The bad news is that after five (if not more) shots on goal, I didn’t manage to get a single one in – one flew wide and the rest somehow narrowly got away or were saved, ahhh! And the worst catch was, it was pouring down with torrential rain. It was raining so hard that I had to constantly wring water out of my shirt and skirt so that it wouldn’t stick to me as much whilst I was running. On top of that, it’s obviously not the easiest thing in the world to hold onto, as well as exert force with a hockey stick, without losing grip of it. I put in a lot of reverse hits at the goal, although they weren’t flying high enough towards the preferred far corner, but for now I’m just really happy that I executed them all and didn’t skin my knees too badly in the process. New turf is skin’s worst enemy!

The rest of post and photos follow after the cut off. Photos courtesy of mum, from far far away at the top of the spectator stands where it was nicely sheltered, but you can see on some of the photos just how hard it was raining the whole time. In chronological order (I played as either Centre Forward or Left Wing throughout the whole game, in the #6 shirt):

I have no idea why or how my legs and feet look really awkward there.

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